Assyrian blacksmith forges knives, axes in northern Iraq

By Winthrop Rodgers | Dec. 10, 2023

A hammer once used by Furat Shmaon’s great-grandfather sits on a shelf in his forge. The face is curled back on itself after thousands of strikes on hot metal and the handle worn smooth and dark. An electric drill press and bottles of WD-40 sit nearby.

Like his workbench, Shmaon blends the traditional and the modern. He pounds glowing metal into knives and axes at his forge in the Soran district in Iraq’s semi-autonomous Kurdistan Region, the legacy of thousands of years of local metalworking ringing off the walls. He then turns to Instagram — the engine of today’s side hustle — to sell them to customers around the world.

Photo by Winthrop Rodgers

Compact and powerfully built, the 36-year-old Shmaon is the latest link in a long chain of Assyrian craftsmen. He shares his shop in the city’s Diana neighborhood with his father, who makes tools for local farmers.

“We are an ancient people. Back in the day there were lots of Assyrians, but through genocides and mass killings like Simele, there are fewer and fewer remaining in Iraq,” he said. 

In honor of that heritage, he named his business Bedyal Blacksmith after his family’s village, located near Barzan.

“I didn’t want our village just to exist, but for its name to ring out as well and it definitely has,” he added, noting that customers across Iraq and as far as the United States, Europe, and Australia buy his work.

Shmaon’s anvil sits near the doorway of the shop. As he works, he nods and waves at neighbors as they pass. Pliers and grips hang on the wall within easy reach and tubs stand ready for quenching, a vital step where hot steel is plunged into oil and water to harden the metal.

“I started about three years ago. I tried it out and was able to make something different,” he said. “Once my friends saw my work, they encouraged me to open a social media page and now it’s a source of livelihood for me.”

Shmaon can spend up to three days perfecting each knife, sometimes working late into the night to get the details right. In the winter, the forge is a warm refuge from the mountain chill. In the summer, it can be sweltering.

“But when I’m busy with something, I never feel the heat,” he said with a grin.

Most of his knives are made of high carbon steel, forged from circular saws and leaf springs. He makes the handles for his blades out of walnut and oak and hand-stitches a leather sheath for each piece.

This sets his work apart from the mass-produced knives that are picked up for cheap at the local bazaar. Carbon steel blades take a little more care than what most people have in their kitchens. Certain acidic fruits and vegetables can stain the blade if it’s not cleaned properly, he warned.

An avid fisherman, Shmaon explained that many people use his blades on camping and hunting trips.

“The ones who know the value of craftsmanship appreciate the work,” he said.

Making high-quality blades is challenging, Shmaon said, because he must source his tools and materials from far away, which is expensive and logistically difficult.

“I would like to expand, but it is hard with my financial situation and the economy,” he explained. “I found a small, sanding machine from Baghdad. Just a small one, but they are asking $1,200. Plus, if I get it, I have to order the belts from outside Iraq.”

Local regulations make it difficult for Shmaon to find what he needs. Officials at Erbil International Airport have prevented foreign suppliers from sending him ferric chloride, a common chemical compound used by bladesmiths to make the swirling patterns of Damascus steel stand out.

He also has trouble getting his knives through checkpoints around the Kurdistan Region. The taxis commonly used to make deliveries between cities often are stopped and questioned why they are carrying what can be considered weapons.

Despite the challenges, Shmaon is proud to carry on the legacy of his family forge, bringing his own passion and inspiration to the anvil.

“There are some people who think it’s a shame to do this kind of work,” he said, explaining that it’s seen as dirty and physically difficult profession. “But I think it’s great that I can keep this craft going so that it does not become extinct.”

Related posts

Breathing new life into language with Assyrian Circles

The Assyrian Journal

Chicago attorney on promoting law education among Assyrian students

The Assyrian Journal

Lioness of Assyria: Lady Surma, ambassador of the Assyrian nation

Courtney Moushi

Leave a Reply

Discover more from The Assyrian Journal

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading